Tag Archives: Personality

Meeting Angus. Type A.

We all know him (or her). Let’s call him Angus. He’s Type A. We see him in our rearview mirror, changing lanes and zigzagging his way from far back there on the road to our back bumper in a minute or two. He is stuck behind us and starts swaying right and left in the lane to signal we’re going far too sloooow. We check and see we’re doing about 10 miles over the speed limit. No faster than that, we decide. Now Angus is gesticulating. His arm is out of the window and his index finger goes round and round – hurry up will ya!

Is that Angus in your rear view mirror?

Just before the next intersection he moves into the turning lane on our left. Left turn only, with a white curved arrow on the asphalt. Phew, he’ll be gone. The light turns red. We stop, and he stops too.  There’s a red arrow for his lane. At least he didn’t run the red light. We wait. The light turns green and we start crossing the intersection. And wroooom, he cuts in right in front of us from the turning lane. We stand on the brakes not to hit him. That was too close!  No, that was Angus. He’s in a hurry. Always.

Taxis (Stock image)

Or we may meet Angus on the big city street around lunch time. Running with his briefcase under one arm, and the other waiving for a taxi. Taxi! Prepared to fight for the first taxi that appears around the corner. We resign to the fact that we’ll not be meeting our lunch date on time.

But suddenly he’s down! Holding his chest. Now we need to call 911. It looks like poor Angus is having a heart attack. We’re still there next to him when the ambulance arrives.  We say we don’t really know him, just been meeting him here and there. The paramedics work fast, he’s lifted into the ambulance. And he’s gone. Or is he?

***

 I originally wrote this story about two years ago (now shortened/edited), but was reminded of it today as I had a really close call with Angus. Somehow, miraculously, I was able to avoid a T-bone collision with him.  I’m a bit shaken, but happy that my reflexes are still sharp. I hope I won’t meet him again any time soon. And I hope you’ll stay safe too.

Go Find Her

When you glance at her

hastily in the grocery line

or anywhere for that matter

it may seem to you

that she doesn’t want

to look anyone in the eye

and is even less inclined

to invite anyone into her world.

Proud loner she is

arrogant in her high hair

you may judge her

solely based on the cover

never asking

whether that’s really her

and never questioning

your own urge to judge.

 In all sincerity

truth to be told here

she is a free spirit

full of inner warmth

a true child of nature

caring and humble

a prism of light

in the heart of the universe.

You just need

to suspend your judgment

and go find her.

Meeting Angus

We all know him (or her). Let’s call him Angus. We’ll see him in our rearview mirror, changing lanes and zigzagging his way from far back there on the road to our back bumper in a minute or two. He is stuck behind us and starts swaying from right to left in the lane to signal we’re going far too sloooow. We check and see we’re going almost 10 miles over the speed limit. No faster than that, we decide. Now Angus is gesticulating we don’t know how to use the gas pedal. His arm is out of the window and his finger goes round and round – hurry up will ya!

Next he moves into the turning lane – right turn only, with an arrow. Phew, he’ll be gone. The light turns red. We stop, and he stops too. Oh, at least he’s yielding to the traffic before turning right.  We wait. The light turns green and we start crossing the intersection. And wroooom, he cuts in right in front of us from the turning lane. We stand on the brakes not to hit him. That was close!  No, that was Angus. He’s in a hurry. Always.

Or we may meet Angus in the office. He’s booked back-to-back, has a demanding job. He’s always running. In meetings he talks fast, cuts us off and completes our sentences. Talk faster, moron, come to the point. One day we may see him running to the photocopiers on his way out of the office. His assistant has forgotten to copy something he will need for his next string of meetings.

But the big copier is busy, collating 25 copies of a 100 page report. And the small one is out-of-order. A white paper taped to it tells the story. And he loses it! Yells and screams #&%@ to his assistant and the whole office. This is everybody’s fault. Why is nothing working in this place?! His jaw is clenched and sweat drips from his upper lip. Angus is an overachiever, due for promotion next month. What would the company do without him? But he hasn’t learned to manage his stress, and he doesn’t have any patience to talk of. He definitely doesn’t like problems. Ever.

Or we may meet Angus on the big city street around lunch time. Running with his briefcase under one arm, and the other waiving for a taxi. Taxi! Prepared to fight for the first taxi that appears around the corner. Seeing him approaching, we have already given up the hope to meet our lunch date on time.

But suddenly he’s down! Holding his chest. Now we need to call 911. It looks like poor Angus is having a heart attack. We’re still there next to him when the ambulance arrives.  We say we don’t really know him, just been meeting him here and there. The paramedics work fast, he’s lifted into the ambulance. And he’s gone.

Or is he?